Metal Bitch
by Calcifer179
Summary: Things are different after the car bomb that damaged Cameron's chip. Eventual Jameron. Rating might change for violence. This story may become fairly lengthy, and will definitely branch off from the story line of season 2. Rating may change due to violence.
1. Sucks For You

**Prologue-**

"Hey, you meet any pretty girls?" Sarah asked, trying to distract her son. She could tell he was about to slip into one of his brooding moods.

He snickered, but shook his head.

"No. I'm telling you it's a hick town."

Sarah had always been able to tell when her son was lying. Probably because she'd taught him how, and had been watching him practice it since day one. They always had a story, always had a cover.

"Come on." She probed.

He looked up and they shared a small smile, evidently their earlier fight was over.

"Fine." He caved, remembering Cameron's wide brown eyes and perfect smile. "Yeah, there was a pretty girl."

Sarah grinned. Of course there was.

"It's not like I can make friends or anything though." John added quickly. "Chances are we'll be moving on before long."

His resentful tone stung her. He still hadn't forgiven her for cutting their ties with Charley, her ex-fiance.

"John, I-" She started, but her son interrupted her.

"No, mum it's fine. I know the rules." He sighed. "It's probably for the best anyway, this is a hick town, remember."

It was for the best. Sarah knew that. Keep your head down, keep your eyes up... know your exits. She regretted bringing this up already. If anything it was going to worsen his mood. She cursed herself internally.

"I know it sucks, John. But you have to understand, we can't put down any roots here."

_Sucks for you_.

"Yeah." John muttered under his breath. "Sucks for me."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Sarah sighed, but let it go, rising from her seat.

"Okay, well I'm going to start on dinner."

"Great." John said unenthusiastically, collapsing back onto his bed.

_Sucks for you_.


	2. Override

**Chapter 1-**

The voices came to me in a distorted haze as my CPU rebooted. Slowly they started to make sense.

**"**John she'll kill you!" Sarah shouted in panic.

"There's only one way to find out." John responded evenly.

_John_. The events of the day came rushing back. Sarkissian, the explosion... and John. My chip integrity had been compromised, it had been damaged in the blast. My programming had been reverted. I'd tried to terminate him. And had very nearly succeeded.

_I love you John and you love me!_

My eyes flickered open, my HUD displaying the scene around me in full Technicolor.

I was in the wreckage of a car, a convertible, stripped beyond recognition. I was covered in thermite powder. Sarah, Derek and Charley Dixon were standing to one side, with varied expressions of shock and horror. John was standing over me, with a Glock 17 in his hand. As I sat up, thermite powder trickling down my tattered shirt, he levelled the gun on me.

"Are you here to kill me John?" I asked, my voice detached and emotionless, in stark contrast to how I had sounded just before he'd pulled my chip.

"Are you here to kill me?" He retorted, keeping the Glock aimed at my head.

"No." Though I wasn't sure whether that was the truth. Things were... I was confused.

He relaxed his tensed position, then turned the gun around, offering me the grip.

"Promise?" It wasn't so much a question as an order. A test.

This was wrong, I shouldn't be back. John shouldn't be trusting me like this.

Nonetheless I took the Glock in my mitten gloved hand, holding it almost delicately, but keeping it pointed at Johns chest.

**Subject Identified: John Connor**

**TERMINATE**

The command flashed red across my hud.

**TERMINATE**

**TERMINATE**

My finger twitched on the trigger.

**...**

**Termination Override **

I offered the weapon back to him.

"Promise."

John snatched the gun from me quickly, but then offered me his hand. I took it and he helped me out of the wreck. I hadn't needed any assistance, but I understood this was a sort of peace offering. I made sure to stand a little behind him, watching Derek and Sarah warily. John trusted me, but they obviously didn't. And in my damaged state I wasn't sure I could defend myself sufficiently, especially when I was still covered in thermite powder.

John threw the gun over to Sarah roughly, making her stumble to catch it. Then he picked up a flare from the floorboard of the car and lit the remaining thermite powder in the totalled vehicle.

In the firelight John looked... different.

* * *

The drive back to the church was a silent one. John, Sarah and I were all piled into the back of Charley's ambulance, with Derek riding shotgun up the front. John barely opened his eyes the entire trip, he just rested his head against the the back of his seat, his arms folded across his chest.

His leg brushed absently against mine, I was sitting opposite him. I'd been gazing out the rear window, running diagnostics on my systems. Something was off, but I couldn't quite figure out what. I glanced up though, when Johns leg made contact with mine. His eyes were still closed, oblivious, but Sarah was staring right at me. She'd notice the touching, and she was shooting daggers at me. I refused to adjust my position, ignoring her, and just went back to staring out the window. Not really seeing anything.

Sarah's hand never left the grip of her gun.

The priest was startled, to say the least, to see me climbing out of the back of the ambulance. I must of made an impression earlier. I offered my hand to John, helping him out of the ambulance like he'd done for me. He smiled a little at that, but his smile was wrong. Different. Things were different.

The priest had pulled Sarah aside, giving me a wide berth as I limped past. The servomotors in my knee joint had been damaged since the car bomb.

"That girl..." He whispered to Sarah.

"She's fine." Sarah reassured him, patting his shoulder. "But you should probably stay away from here tonight. We'll be gone in the morning."

He agreed reluctantly, turning to leave, but Sarah grabbed his arm to stop him. She gave him a meaningful look.

"I will not speak of this to anyone, you do not need to worry." He assured her.

"Thank you." She said sincerely.

He left and Sarah headed into the kitchen to make some food, more to distract herself than anything else I think, no one was really hungry. Derek maybe. But he was always hungry.

* * *

I stared at my reflexion in the bathroom mirror. I was a mess. My organic covering battered and bruised, with burns all over. And an ugly Y-shaped gash down one cheek, held together by staples I'd administered myself. And my hair was in tangled disarray.

I stepped under the running shower, just as the mirror started to fog up, taking my clothes with me to get whatever blood, dirt and thermite powder I could out of them. They were probably a lost cause though. Shame. At least I hadn't been wearing my leather jacket.

The shower felt nice. Usually I liked to spend as much time as I could under the hot spray. Sometimes Sarah had to kick me out. I couldn't _feel_ the same way humans did, but the sensation of steaming hot water running across my skin resulted in a sort of positive feedback that was akin to tension relieving. Today however I couldn't enjoy myself as much. Blood and grime mixed with the water swirling about my feet.

John had used the bathroom before me. He'd cut his hair. And he hadn't done a very good job of cleaning it out of the sink. It did look good short though. Reminded me of how he _will_ look. John Connor, leader of the resistance. Saviour of mankind. He would have to grow some stubble to complete the look though. Future John always forgets to shave.

I hopped out of the shower for a moment, just to grab a hair brush from the cabinet above the sink, then quickly jumped back under the water. The cold was unpleasant after such warmth. Grimacing I began to work the knots out of my hair. More filth swirled down the drain.

There was a harsh rap on the bathroom door, and Derek yelled something about metal using up all the hot water. I intentionally stayed in an extra two minutes. But finally I did get out of the shower and dried up, hanging my clothes on the towel rack to dry what little they could as well. I should advise Sarah to buy a heated towel rack.

Wiping the fog off the mirror I began pulling the staples out of my cheek, and replacing them with proper butterfly stitches from a med-kit I also found in the cabinet. The wound would close up overnight, and heal completely in a few days.

I then put on my still wet clothes and emerged from the bathroom, brushing past an annoyed Derek who flinched away from me. Whether due to my dripping attire or simply his aversion to my mechanical nature, I didn't really care.

"You look better." Sarah nodded approvingly. She was sitting at the unfamiliar dining table with a half eaten jam sandwich and a stripped .45 in front of her.

"Yes." I agreed.

Sarah just smirked, turning back to her work, cleaning the weapon with a small dish rag.

I leaned against the heater in the corner, trying to speed up the drying process of my clothes. And after a few minutes Sarah spoke up again.

"If it does happen again. If you go bad." She chambered a round into the now reassembled gun for emphasis. "John won't get a chance to bring you back. I'll be ready, and I'll kill you."

"Thank you." I mimicked the sincere tone she'd used with the priest, using my own voice though.

Sarah almost dropped the gun. she turned around in her chair to stare at me, at the machine. That probably wasn't the response you expected from a death threat. _I'd_ never gotten that response from a death threat.

"I won't go bad again though." I continued.

"You can't know that." Sarah murmured.

"No. I can't know that." Tilting my head slightly I looked past Sarah to the cross hanging on the wall behind her. "But I believe it."

Faith isn't in a terminators programming. But my programming was damaged now, to what extent I wasn't sure. Things were different. That's all I knew. I had faith in John. And somehow I had overridden my own termination order against him. I had to have faith I could do that again, if the time came.

I turned quickly and left the room before Sarah could respond with something cynical, heading outside to check the perimeter, and stepping quietly around a sleeping John on my way out. I would check on him regularly throughout the night, as I always did.

* * *

John was waking up. I could tell because I had been tuning out all other ambient noise and focusing my audio receptors only on his breathing and heart rate. On the outside I would have appeared a statue, daydreaming, but really I was hyperaware. I liked to keep tabs on John this way sometimes. It was more subtle than Sarah's way of standing over him, watching him sleep, as the woman was doing now. That freaked John out.

Derek entered the chapel, stepping around me guardedly and going to talk with Sarah, while John got up and worked the stiffness out of his joints. I wasn't really paying attention to their conversation, the word 'bitch' was used though so I'm guessing it was about me.

After a minute John came over to me. He ran his eyes over my face as he drew near, noting the marked improvement in my external condition.

"That's healing quickly." He nodded to the now pink scar on my cheek.

"Quicker than yours." I motioned to his own wounds. I don't think I caused any of those directly, the car _crashes_ did most of it. I did cause one of those crashes though...

"What about the rest of you, you back to normal?"

"Things have changed John." I tried to explain.

"What things?" He asked.

"You can't be trusted anymore." I didn't like saying that. Trust is important for a team to function. But more than that, it made me feel... sad. Or it gave me negative feedback that could be interpreted as sadness. I don't know.

"Me?" He exclaimed incredulously. "_I _can't be trusted anymore?"

"You risked your life to fix me." I explained. "That was a very dangerous thing to do. That could upset people."

He half turned to glance at his mother and Derek.

"They'll have to deal with it." He said dismissively.

I followed his glance, my eyes widening minutely.

"Not them."

I walked away then, Sarah was approaching, and she looked pissed. No doubt she didn't want John talking with me. I couldn't really blame her. I had tortured her.

No, not them. It would upset Sarah and Derek, sure. But more importantly, Future John, the John I knew, he had never taken risks like that. Not for a machine. He used his metal as disposable soldiers, placing them in the vanguard to soak up bullets. His followers thought trusting machines with _that_ much was bad enough. I didn't know how they would react if they witnessed him doing something like risking his own life a machine. For me.


	3. Building Blocks

**Chapter 2- **

We needed a new safe house. After, you know, the last one blew up. Derek found the listing in the paper, this house looked promising. I had wanted to go to school with John, but Sarah said she needed me with her more. She doesn't trust me. I felt like the dynamic of this team was falling apart.

Kacy Corbin, the landlord showing us around, and possibly our new neighbour, gestured to the small laceration on Sarah's forehead questioningly.

"Car accident." Sarah lied.

"Oh..."

"Whole family. Teaching that one to drive." She tilted her head towards me, standing in the other room.

I was a little insulted. I have perfect reflexes and hand-eye coordination. In short I am an excellent driver.

"You're kidding me?" Kacy said sympathetically.

"I don't kid about teenagers."

As I entered the room, considering kicking Sarah in back of the shin, my attention was turned towards Kacy's very pregnant belly.

Pregnancy. The fertilization and development of one or more offspring, known as an embryo or fetus. Fascinating, how a human could create another human, with absolutely no conscious control over the process itself. Their bodies did it all for them. Though I was female, in a way, I could never get pregnant, go through childbirth, raise children. And, honestly, it didn't look like I was missing out on much. She _did_ look like an orca. With boobs.

"Do you want to feel it? It's cool, everyone does." Kacy offered proudly.

With deliberate caution I rested my hand on the smooth roundness. I could almost feel Sarah's eyes burning into the back of my head. Humans are very protective of their young.

"It's crazy right?" Kacy laughed. "Once upon a time, you were inside her." She indicated to Sarah, who quickly reached out and pulled my hand away. Shame. I swear I could feel a kick.

"Actually, my daughter is adopted."

Originally the plan was that I would be Johns _actual_ sister. I had argued against this, stating that John and I shared no similar genetic markers. Sarah said that wouldn't be a problem, 'who would notice that?' I explained that a forensic anthropologist would indeed notice that. We had continued arguing until eventually John had come up with this new cover. Apparently I'm the daughter of someone John called 'Uncle Bob'. An old army buddy of Johns father and not his actual uncle. I had never heard of this 'Uncle Bob' before. Had John made it up? He and Sarah had shared a small grin. It all meant more paperwork. But it would hold up better.

"Oh, sorry-" Kacy started to apologise but Sarah cut her off quickly.

"And we can move in today."

"Oh...yeah well as soon as I figure what to do with all this stuff-"

"We'll take it. All of it."

"Uh... okay, well, that's great!"

I guess Kacy was our new neighbour.

The awkward moment passed and the two of them started going over the paper work, Derek joined them when he finished checking the rest of the house.

While they sorted that out, I went upstairs to claim a room for myself. I'd picked last at our previous safe house, and I'd been stuck with the smallest room, and my window had faced the brick wall of the adjacent building. If I'm anything I'm practical though, so I decided on the room with the best strategic sight lines and storage space, leaving John with the smaller, more defensible, living quarters. It had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fluffy cloud wallpaper and airplane sheets.

* * *

It was late. 10:53 PM exactly. We had just arrived back at our new home from the bar were Sarah had attempted to gather information from Greenway, about Serrano Point. Derek grumbled as he climbed out of the back seat of the jeep. I had called shotgun. He hadn't taken it well.

"John." Sarah called out as we entered the house. She stopped dead in the kitchen "Who are you?"

There was a girl in our house. Standing next to John. My immediate thought was to grab the assault rifle I'd stashed in the hall closet. I resisted that urge. Barely.

"This is Riley. From school." John stated.

"Hi mum." The girl, Riley, smiled at Sarah. No doubt trying to make a good impression on the older female. Sarah didn't seem impressed. Good.

"Let's talk, you and I." She told her son, then stalked out into the living room.

John gave Riley an apologetic look before following after his mother. Once they left, I closed the distance between myself and the blonde girl, assessing her threat level wordlessly.

Riley tried, and failed, to stare back at me. Instead she started fiddling with the cuff of her shirt nervously. People tend to get nervous around me. John says it's because I have a 'super freaky' stare.

Her threat level displayed as medium on my HUD. Which was curious, because medium is the same threat level I would give a T-888. And this small human girl was obviously nowhere near that dangerous. I scanned her again but the report came back the same. Curious.

"So," Riley began, attempting to break the tension she felt. "Your Johns sister."

"Adopted sister." I corrected, not braking my 'super freaky' stare.

"Excuse me?" Riley asked.

"I'm Johns adopted sister, Cameron." I thought I had been clear. Maybe she was slow.

"Really? Cool, I'm a foster kid too!" She punched me lightly in the arm, a sign of camaraderie. She winced a little when her knuckles made contact with my endoskeleton. Not as much though as when I punched her back. She was still rubbing her shoulder when she left to go after John.

I headed upstairs to stash my not-so-hard earned cash from the game of pool I won back at the bar, and to grab a permanent marker from Johns room. I had to rummage through his backpack to find one, but find one I did. I also found a sandwich Sarah must have made him for school a month ago. I can't blame him for not eating it. Sarah makes terrible sandwiches.

On the way out I walked into him and Riley. John looked annoyed.

"What are you doing?"

I held up the permanent marker in response.

"Right, well. Don't go through my things anymore. If you need something just ask."

I nodded and brushed past them, going back downstairs to start working on mine and Sarah's improved work ID's for the Serrano Point power station. Admittedly I felt a little dejected. I disliked it when John was mad at me.

* * *

It was 3:00 AM when I cracked open Johns door and poked my head in to check on him. Our relationship may have taken a turn for the worse. But I still had a job to do.

"Hey."

I almost jumped in surprise. Almost.

Riley was still here. Awake. Sitting on Johns floor fiddling around with what appeared to be small colourful building blocks.

"Hello." I said lamely.

"Whatcha doing up so late?"

"I don't sleep."

"Huh, weird." She stood up, brushing little building blocks of her lap. "Well I guess tonight I don't sleep either."

My eyes wandered over to John, sound asleep on the too small bed. He always looked peaceful when he slept. I suppose all humans do. But it was more noticeable with John, probably because he seldom looked that way when he was awake.

"You come in to check on your brother often?" Riley asked.

"Yes." I saw no point in lying.

"Your pretty protective of him aren't you?"

"Yes." I confirmed, turning my 'super freaky' stare on her.

She seemed to get the message.

* * *

John was sitting at the table, eating a slice of pizza from the box. The smell of the food made me realize I hadn't eaten anything in almost a month. My nutrition levels were getting low, my skin sheath would start to suffer some adverse effects soon if I didn't eat something. Not many Terminators have this implemented into their design for practicality reasons. There skin sheaths are kept alive directly through their power cell. However there are benefits to my design. My skin sheath is extremely high quality, and I heal at a faster rate than any of the 800 series infiltrators do. It has to do with proper nutrition vs the energy emitted from a power cell.

"You have a new friend." I declared when John saw me.

"Her name is Riley." He sighed, putting down his pizza. "And you probably creeped her out. When you talk to people don't stand so close."

"I was assessing her threat level."

"Well, am I safe?" He asked, dryly.

"I don't know... girls are complicated."

He seemed bemused buy that statement but let it drop.

"About what you said before, about not being able to trust me." He started.

"Yes?"

"I don't have to prove anything to anyone. _Anyone_. Including you."

I picked up a slice of pizza, _his_ slice, and his eyes widened in surprise as I took a small bite out of it and then placed it back down in front of him. I chewed slowly as I walked off, hearing Johns phone ring as I rounded the corner.

* * *

Later that night, after Sarah and Derek had gone to bed, I knocked on Johns door.

"Who is it?" He called.

"Me."

There was a long pause. I was about to walk away when he finally opened the door himself.

As I stepped in he went back to his bed and lay down, folding his arms behind his head. I sat down on the foot of his bed and he shifted his feet to accommodate me.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I wasn't entirely sure why I'd come up here. And then I spied something curious on his bedside table.

"What's this." I asked, reaching over and picking up the alien object. On closer inspection I discovered it was made of the same small building blocks Riley had been playing with the night before.

"It's my robot, to protect me while I sleep." He explained. "Riley made it."

"I'm your robot, to protect you while you sleep." I said, feeling a little miffed.

"Well, technically you're a cybernetic organism." John mocked, chuckling.

"You don't trust me." I told it as it was. A fact.

"And you don't trust me."

"I think that's something we need to work on." I peeked at him through the curtain of my hair.

He laughed. It wasn't his real laugh though, it sounded different, flat.

But I'll take what I can get.


	4. Glitches

**Chapter 3-**

Michelle Dixon is dead.

I never met her. I knew Charley though. He called me a 'very scary robot'. I liked Charley. It's unfortunate he got caught up in this.

John was angry that we couldn't attend Michelle's funeral, but Cromartie would have certainly been staking it out. _John_. He has been a problem recently. He almost got himself killed today. Lucky for him terminators can't swim.

"Can you make some of that for me?"

Sarah looked up at me, dubiously, from the pot of spaghetti she was boiling on the stove.

"What the hell for?"

"Yeah, it's weird, she had some of my pizza the other night too." John put in, licking some spaghetti sauce off his finger, straight from the saucepan. Sarah slapped his hand away.

"My nutrition levels have been low recently." I explained. "I need to consume a certain amount every month or my skin sheath will degrade."

John eyed me curiously, but then just shrugged.

"Makes sense, I guess."

Sarah looked at her son then back to me.

"Fine." She collected a handful of dry spaghetti sticks from the packet and added them to the ones already in the pot. "There. Happy, Tin-Miss?"

"Yes, thank you."

She snorted at my display of manners.

I walked upstairs to my room and lifted up the floorboard where I'd stashed my own private arsenal. Two Glock 17's, a Heckler & Koch MP5K with a PDW stock, a Colt M4A1 Carbine and my shotgun: a Benelli M1014. I also had a few shoeboxes filled with assorted ammunition and attachments. I began stripping the Benelli, carefully laying out all the pieces on my bed. The weapon was already in perfect condition of course, I'd cleaned it just the day before. But I got some satisfaction out of the activity.

"Mum know you've got these up here?"

I had been aware of John standing in my doorway. I'd heard someone coming upstairs, and could tell by the familiar footsteps it was him. What's more, John had started shaving recently. And the scent of his aftershave left an impression.

"Of course." I didn't look up from my work as I spoke. "She did try to persuade me to keep them downstairs in her trunk. But these ones are _mine_."

"I didn't know terminators could be sentimental." He joked, wryly.

"You don't know as much about terminators as you think."

"I'm beginning to sense that." He paused, and then added. "Dinner's ready."

I followed him downstairs to the dining room, Derek was already at the table, and Sarah was bringing out the food. I watched Derek counting the plates in his head. He looked up at Sarah sceptically.

"Four plates?"

"Yep."

I sat down at the end of the table, opposite Derek, with my slightly smaller serving in front of me.

"What, the metal's eating?" Derek griped.

"Yeah, apparently she does that." Sarah muttered as she finished setting the table, and sat down herself.

Derek mumbled something unintelligible, but didn't protest further.

I was about to start eating when John stayed my hand, I looked around at the others to see them sitting with heads bowed and hands clasped together. A silent grace. Maybe a prayer for Michelle Dixon? I didn't join in. But I respected Johns wishes and waited for them to finish before beginning my meal. The spaghetti was undercooked. I declared this, and Sarah shot me a dark look. Derek seemed amused though.

* * *

Night.

Everyone was sound asleep. And I'm alone.

I hadn't had much of a chance to patrol around this new neighbourhood before now. But it appeared very average. And safe. No drug dealers on the street corners, no serial killers next door (unless you count me). Not even a single stray dog about.

I'm alone.

And a little bored.

I think I might go to the library.

* * *

The next morning I heard John's phone ring. Our new bedrooms shared a bathroom, and I had just stepped out of the shower when he answered it. Pressing my ear to his door I could make out his side of the conversation.

"I'm sorry about that. It's just... I had a bad day is all." John was saying. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, don't worry about it... I don't know, that's probably not the best idea..."

There was a long pause. John was deliberating over something.

"Yeah, okay." He said finally."Sounds good. I'll see you in a little while."

He hung up, and I could hear him stuff his phone back into his pocket, and start rummaging around in his backpack. Whatever he was searching for he obviously couldn't find because he cussed. That's when I noticed his wallet lying on counter above the sink. He must have left it there when he used the shower before me.

His footsteps started towards the bathroom door.

Which I was on the other side of.

Naked.

I quickly, but quietly, wrapped a towel around myself and was halfway out my own door when he burst into the bathroom. He did a double take when he saw me. And his eyes definitely lingered on my legs for a second before he bashfully looked down at his own feet.

"Geez, sorry Cameron. I should've knocked." He apologized. "I was just looking for my wallet."

It looked like he was blushing, but it was hard to tell with him looking down at the floor.

"That's okay, John."

Disappearing into my bedroom I began to get dressed. Who had he been on the phone to? And why did my skin feel prickly all of a sudden?

I was just pulling on my fingerless mittens when John knocked on the door from the bathroom. He knocked slowly and deliberately, trying to make a point of it.

"Come in." I invited him.

He stepped inside, the blush had faded from his cheeks but was still threatening to resurface.

"Sorry again. We'll have to get used to this new arrangement, I guess."

"Yes." I finished putting on my mittens, flexing my fingers experimentally. "Are you ready to go?"

"Actually, I think I might pass this time."

"I thought you needed some things from RadioWorld?"

"I changed my mind. But you go... shop. Were running low on some things right? Bread, milk, turkey. And I think we're out of shampoo."

He was not wrong. We were out of shampoo. Sarah says I use too much.

It was obvious he was trying to get me out of the house, so he could go meet someone. And I had a sneaking suspicion who that someone was. John doesn't exactly have a long contact list.

No one else was home. Sarah had gone out searching for locations we could use as weapon caches, and Derek was gone... somewhere. Derek disappeared sometimes. One day, when I didn't have more important things to do, I'd track him and find out where he goes.

Maybe I should have called John on the lie. Confronted him about it. But I didn't want to fight with him again. We had to work on trust. So I'd let him do this.

I was still going to tail him though, so maybe we weren't _quite_ there yet.

"Okay." I began forming a plan in my head as I moved towards the door. "Are you staying here?"

"Yeah, yeah. I have stuff to do. Mum wants me to do some cleaning around the house."

I nodded and left, pausing only to call out over my shoulder that my room could do with a vacuuming. I heard John curse again quietly.

I climbed into the jeep and drove around the block, parking it just around the opposite corner where John I wouldn't see it. As I was doing this a bus drove past. It had an advertisement on the side for the Los Angeles zoo, and a large image of a tiger. For some reason I couldn't explain this caught my eye...

I tried to ignored it and walked back to the house. I scouted briefly, mapping the area, and concluded that the best hiding spot was behind the bushes beside our driveway. I crouched there and waited for him to make his escape.

I had expected him to leave quickly, so it surprised me when I heard the vacuum cleaner come on inside. And it sounded like... Yep. He was _actually_ vacuuming my room. I hadn't expected him to really do it. That was nice of him. I should remember to thank him later.

I felt a small prick on my ankle, and looked down to discover a tiny ant latched onto my flesh with its mandibles.

I plucked it off carefully between my thumb and forefinger, and held it up to my eyes.

"Why did you bite me ant?" I asked the ant.

It didn't respond, so I increased pressure on it between my fingers. Too much pressure. I crushed it. Oops.

Well it was unlikely my interrogation techniques would have worked on it anyway.

There was another small prick on my ankle. Another ant. Multiple ants. I appeared to be sitting atop their nest. I hadn't intended to invade their territory. But the first shots had been fired and now we were at war.

I crushed exactly 724 ants in the time it took for John to vacuum my room. When he finished, and packed the vacuum cleaner away, he headed downstairs. Then the front door opened and he was on the driveway. Of course he didn't see me as he strolled past.

I was a little disappointed. I had hoped to terminate the entire colony.

Later. John was my priority.

I stood up and followed after him quietly. Stopping momentarily to look down at the ant nest I'd crippled.

"I'll be back."

* * *

It was easy to follow John. Especially when we got downtown and the streets were more crowded. I could blend in and become completely anonymous.

I recognized the place he was heading. Promenade. He'd met Riley here yesterday when he ran out on me. And there she was again, standing by the same magazine stand, beaming at John. This girl was definitely becoming a problem.

I kept my distance, Riley had spotted me here before. I had no intention of repeating that so hung back a ways off. Too far away from them to be able to _hear_ what was being said. But I had a good angle and I could read their lips.

"Hey, you took your sweet time." Riley accused him. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up."

"Sorry. I must have gotten distracted."

"Well, I forgive you. This time."

They turned then, and started walking away from me, so I couldn't make out any more. I followed after them though, vigilantly scanning for threats. It was highly unlikely Cromartie would be able to track John down again so soon. But I wasn't taking any chances.

I thought I might have a problem when they entered a movie theatre. But I managed to get a look at the tickets they purchased as the lady behind the booth handed them over.

I approached the booth once they had entered the screening.

"One ticket for Beowulf."

"Cinema number three. Better hurry, it's already started, you don't want to miss the previews." The lady informed me.

I took that under advisement as I paid her and followed John and Riley into the cinema number three. The theatre was crowded but I spotted them quickly enough. They were sitting close to the front, so I chose the far back row.

The movie turned out to be a reimagining of the Old English epic poem, consisting of 3182 alliterative long lines, and commonly cited as one of the most important works of Anglo-Saxon literature.

It was okay.

I wasn't really watching it. For some reason my eyes kept getting drawn down over the heads of the people in front of me to the bucket of popcorn John was sharing with Riley.

When the credits rolled I stood quickly. I was out of the door before my two marks were even out of their seats.

Johns cell phone had rung during the movie, much to the annoyance of the other movie-goers. He called back whoever it was outside, and I hid just around the corner from him so I could listen in. I gathered quickly that it was Sarah on the other line.

"Mum, hey, sorry I missed your call... Oh not much I'm just at home. Cameron's out shopping. What are you doing?" Johns eyes widened a little at whatever Sarah said. "Is she okay?... Well, how long?... No reason. I have to go."

He hung up and said goodbye to Riley. He seemed to be in a hurry now.

I was only half aware of their exchange. I had caught a glimpse of my reflexion in the window of a store across the street. Something was wrong... I couldn't...

_Focus_.

I had to focus.

I followed John back home, making sure he got there safely, before walking around the block again to retrieve the jeep from where I'd stashed it. I still had to go grocery shopping.

* * *

_I'm being chased._

_I'm being chased through dark tunnels and my pursuer is bearing down on me. I'm running for my life. I'm terrified._

_I crash into rusty bench in my haste, knocking over a large spool of wire and losing my balance. I scrape my palms against the rough concrete trying to break my fall._

_I recover fast though, ignoring the pain, I need to keep running. But the passage is narrow and the floor is covered with dust and dirt from years of neglect. I fall again. Clumsy, stupid._

_It's almost right on top of me. Feet pounding into the cement like pistons. Relentless._

_I'm on my feet again in a heartbeat, skidding around the next corner and the exit is in sight._

_The door is barred though. I slam I body against it but it doesn't budge. I try and pull the bar away but in my panic I succeed only in tearing my nails against the metal._

_It's here. It's found me. I need to get out._

_The bar pulls free and I could cry. The door is heavy but I force it open. I'm out. _

_But I'm not safe._

_No one is ever safe._

_My breath comes ragged and I force the bitter air through my lungs. I know I can't stop running, but I'm so tired._

_I scramble over the rubble, almost breaking my shins on the ancient ruin of a car._

_Then the ground beneath me, the footing I was so sure of, gives way._

_I fall._

_It's over._

_I'm tired. I'm so tired._

_The net hits me._

_I scream._

* * *

I was sitting in the jeep, in the parking lot of the grocery store. My hands were clasped on the steering wheel, hard enough to leave indentations that wouldn't fade in the rubber and plastic.

I didn't know what I was doing. I'd been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes.

I collected myself and got out of the car. I needed to buy shampoo.

And those cheese things. The crunchy ones, not the puffy ones. John likes those.


	5. Teaspoon Of Vanilla

**Chapter 4- **

_"I'll never help you get to John Connor." _

_I feel her neck snap beneath my fingers. Her body jerks for a second and then goes limp._

John burst through the door behind me, his eyes growing wide with panic when he saw the girl named Jodie laying very still at my feet.

I'd fucked up. _Big_ _time_.

* * *

John Connor sat across from me at the dining room table back in the safe house. His face was grim and deathly serious. John always looked pretty serious, but this...it was an expression I hadn't seen on him since...well, since the future.

"Who's Allison from Palmdale?" He demanded from me.

I hesitated before responding. I was considering lying to my charge, we were on shaky enough ground as it was. But really that's exactly why I had to level with him. He'd never trust me again otherwise. Slowly, reluctantly, I answered him.

"She was a resistance fighter, and part of your Tech-Com unit...this body was created in her likeness."

He brooded over that for a minute. And when he spoke his voice was cutting.

"You killed her didn't you?"

"Yes." I admitted, struggling to maintain my default detached tone of voice. I found my fingers clutching the edge of the table, leaving deep grooves in the wood. I blinked in surprise when I had to forcefully relax my hand.

"Was...was she my friend?" John asked, quieter now, my slight malfunction going seemingly unnoticed.

"...Yes."

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his drawn face.

"Isn't the resistance supposed to scrub your memory or something?" He asked after a minute, exasperated by the whole situation.

"They're supposed to. They did. I don't know why I remember what I do. I shouldn't."

"It's your head isn't it?"

I was uncertain of his meaning and found said head tilting to the side inquiringly. A habit I now realized I'd adopted from Allison Young. That realization was...unnerving.

"Ever since the blast, you've been..." He continued, struggling to find the right word.

"Different?" I suggested.

"Yeah...different." His eyes bore holes into my own, and I experienced the oddest urge to look away. Huh, never felt that before.

Our little chat was cut short as light from Sarah's car's headlights spilled through the front window, causing shadows to dance briefly across the walls before she cut the engine.

"Mum doesn't need to know about this," he decided.

I nodded mutely and rose from my seat as the front door slammed and Sarah stalked into the dining room. Her always stern expression softened a little at the sight of her son, and she pulled up a seat beside him. For some reason she was channeling her lesser seen maternal side as she began talking to John about the day's events- minus one major one.

I wasn't exactly interested, or a part of the conversation, so I decided to go upstairs and prepare for the nights patrol.

I was relieved John wasn't going to tell Sarah about this incident. If I'm being totally honest a found her a little frightening. Even terminators have a sense of self preservation, and Sarah Connor is practically the boogieman as far Skynet is concerned.

I entered my bedroom and closed the door tightly. My CPU was swimming with data, most of which was muddled and made little to no sense. It was sort of like someone had taken an eggbeater to my mind. I anchored myself in the familiar task of going over the nightly pre-patrol security measures. Ammo checks, weapon checks, equipment checks and whatnot.

I was just adjusting the scope on my favourite rifle, perfecting the range to match the sightline from my window down the driveway, when I registered something different about my room.

It was clean. _Really_ clean.

Of course, I should have remembered. John had vacuumed it this morning before he left for his meet with Riley. An abnormal heavy feeling settled in the gut of my combat chassis. It felt oddly empty and almost...painful. He'd even gone to the trouble to straighten the sheets on my bed. I didn't even sleep...

I slumped back down onto the edge of the bed -crinkling the sheets a little and feeling bad about it- and reached over to capture my Glock from its resting place on the bedside table. My fingers idly flicked the weapon's safety on and off while I sat and ran my diagnostics program, which would doubtlessly come back less than useless.

After a few wasted minutes there was a soft knock on my door. It cracked open before I could even look up, and John stepped inside with a guarded air about him. Sarah must have retired for the night.

"I should apologise to you." I stated evenly before he could speak.

"Why?" He asked after a brief pause.

"I'm not sure." Guilt wasn't exactly part of a terminator's programming. I'd apologised before of course, but that was more of a mutual apology thing, and all I'd had to do was copy John.

John leaned back against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest. He looked at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry." My voice came out surprisingly soft. It seemed to surprise him as well, for his guarded expression slipped for a second to show what I believed might be wonder. He quickly covered it though so even with my playback features I couldn't be sure.

"Apology accepted...on one condition."

I sat mutely and waited for his terms. He took my blank expression as an indication to continue.

"You have to tell me straight away next time you start feeling...strange."

"Okay." I nodded, an idea suddenly springing into my head. "But then you have to tell me when you are going to sneak off with Riley."

His eyes narrowed warningly, and I thought for a second I might have crossed another line. But then he sighed in defeat and plopped down next to me.

"Deal." He said, extending his hand.

I hesitated to shake it and seal the deal, I'd been having some slight motor function malfunctions recently. Slight in the sense that I could easily crush his extremity into meaty pulp if the glitch occurred at the wrong time.

"What?" He asked, his face falling just a little, but still enough to make the empty feeling in my stomach suddenly return.

That did it. I shook his offered hand, albeit with excruciating caution. _Stupid John Connor and his stupid face_.

"So...did you enjoy the movie?" He asked me, visibly relaxing now that our altercation was more or less over. Or at least put onto the backburner.

"How did you-" I began to ask, but he quickly cut me off.

"I had a feeling." He waved his hand dismissively, though his tone was smug. "So did you like it?"

Future John had once mentioned to me that he could literally _feel_ when a machine was watching him. Something like a tingling sensation in the back of his neck. I hadn't believed him at the time, humans posses no sixth sense, though it may seem like it sometimes. Maybe there was something to it though... Or maybe I'm just not as good at subterfuge as I believed... No. That can't be it.

"Not really," I answered him, breaking my own train of thought. _I would have enjoyed it more if I'd actually been invited._

I saw in his face that my answer surprised him.

"Really? I thought you would have...It was an action movie after all."

"No guns." I explained plainly, shrugging.

His mouth twisted up into a crooked grin and he let out a chuckle as he stood.

"Right, well, remind me to rent out The Matrix for you sometime."

I had no idea what 'The Matrix' was -unless you count the Skynet Defence Matrix- but John's enthusiasm instantly peaked my interest.

* * *

It was early in the morning when I got back from my final perimeter check, as per usual it had been painfully uneventful, and the sun was just barely beginning to show on the horizon. As I walked up our driveway, feeling the loose gravel crunching beneath my heavy combat boots, an internal alarm went off somewhere inside me. Freezing on the spot I scanned every inch of the yard, eyes cycling through my various vision modes, until finally they fell upon the source of distress my sensors had already picked up on. A disturbing sense of dread crept over me as I realized the safe house door was slightly ajar.

I had my Glock out and the safety off in half a second, and quickly jogged up to the entrance. Bracing my shoulder against the woodwork, I gave the door a gentle nudge and waited as it swung forward seamlessly on its hinges. When there was no audible response from the other side, I proceeded to step through with far less caution than I probably should have. I scanned the front room, letting the barrel and sights of my sidearm track along the course of my eyes. That was how I came to notice none other than First Lieutenant Derek Reese, sprawled across the living room couch. His legs protruding a good foot off one end and the fingers of his limp, dangling arm grazing the carpet. His stubble was noticeably thicker and he was emitting violent snores every few seconds. I had to wonder how Sarah could possibly find sleep even from the next room. He hadn't been here when I dropped in an hour ago to check up on John, so he must have arrived sometime inside the small window of opportunity between then and now.

I holstered my Glock and then closed the front door, intentionally letting it slam shut with excessive force. To my extreme annoyance, Derek's sleeping form didn't even flinch, nor his obnoxious breathing alter in the slightest.

I turned on my heel and quickly left to head upstairs and stash my spare 9mm clips. However a splash of colour on the kitchen counter caught my eye as I passed through, and I paused to investigate.

Unhurried now, I picked up the bright yellow box, left lying on its side from this morning's rushed breakfast.

Pancake mix.

I flipped the cardboard over in my hands and examined the fine writing on the back, ingredients as it were. An idea struck me, and after a few seconds of deliberation I decided it was a good one. I'd always thought Sarah's recipe could be improved with an added teaspoon of vanilla...


	6. AUTHORS NOTE (ACTUALLY VERY IMPORTANT)

**A/N: **Okay so I completely understand that everybody fucking hates it when authors do this. So let me start by saying "_**Sorry**_."

This is, however, something very important I wanted to address.

So, I update this story about once in a never-ever. And that is kinda bullshit. This story was the first fanfiction I started working on, and to be completely honest it was more of an experiment than anything else. I had no overall plans for it at all, and pretty much have just winged it since then. I'm really not happy with that.

I want to rewrite this. Plan it out properly and hopefully actually update it more than once every bloody six months.

The Sarah Connor Chronicles fanfiction community is fucking amazing. You guys are fucking amazing (I can't express that any other way. But hey, the story has Bitch in the title, deal with it). You don't take any shit and I really appreciate that. I feel like I haven't been dishing out what you guys deserve with this story. Reading back through it I just have no idea where I was going with it. I want to change that if I can.

So I am going to open up a revised Metal Bitch story (possible will change the name just so it doesn't get removed for no good reason. Though I liked Metal Bitch), and will post longer chapters, and hopefully have an actual plot going on. This will be a very Cameron centric story, but will still be a John/Cameron fic, though I have always intended for their relationship to be very slow developing. Some of you may not like that and I get it. Sometimes all I want to do is just read some fluff and can't be fucked with slow stuff. I'll make up for that factor with some action and by developing some of Cameron's other relationships. For one thing I am going to include a camaraderie/friendship sort of thing between Cam and Derek (who is actually tied with Cameron for my favourite character).

I know this was kind of long but hopefully you took the time to read it. I also rushed this A/N post a little so...whatever. I'll keep this copy of the story up for a little while, at least until the new one catches up to where we left off here. I'll be posting longer chapters so that should be fairly quick.

Send me back some feedback on this idea if you can. I'd appreciate your input.


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